


Underneath It All

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Music school AU, Violinist Yamaguchi, pianist kageyama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 14:14:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16641750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: Perfectly Average Violinist Yamaguchi Tadashi finds inspiration from an unlikely source when he happens upon the best musician he's ever heard living in the sewers beneath the city. Can this mysterious prodigy, a grungy homeless kid named Tobio, teach Tadashi how to play music from the soul, and can Tadashi help Tobio find his way again?





	Underneath It All

**Author's Note:**

> This was my contribution to the YamaKage Zine, which is available for free download [here](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1sV0p_BWE9YF1aRHfgEHLr3reqmtjyQbK/view).

Perfectly Average violinist Yamaguchi Tadashi reads his scorecard from the solo and ensemble competition he had practiced slavishly for and slumps into his chair. The marks are middling and the comments firmly in the ‘solid’ category. 

In short, his music is at best uninspiring, and the idea of it sours in his belly. He’s spent two years at the Karasuno Conservatory, and he has nothing to show for it.

His hand latches tightly around the handle of his violin case as he wanders in the general direction of home in a daze, all the while hoping the ground will swallow him up. More tired than he’s been in his life, Tadashi drops onto a bench in a nearby park and sags into the backrest. 

It’s barely discernible and Tadashi doesn’t know how long it takes for him to notice it, but he does. A haunting piano melody wafts from nowhere in particular, and it’s beautiful. The resonance of it is rich and full, with someone playing like the kind of musician that Tadashi has always wanted to be.

Gathering his things, Tadashi closes his eyes and concentrates on the sound, moving in the direction of the source until he finds himself squatting in a gutter near a storm drain. His eyes widen when he realizes this is definitely where the music is coming from. 

He takes in his surroundings, his search bearing fruit when he spots a manhole cover in the middle of the paved bike path. Checking for oncoming traffic, he grabs the ring in the center of the metal lid and pulls hard until the cover dislodges.

Peering down the manhole, he is startled to find the soft glow of light emanating from one of the tunnels below. Lacing the handle of his violin case through the strap of his shoulder bag, Tadashi carefully climbs down the cold ladder, holding his breath against the smell of wet, moldy stone. All he can think about is the sound, which is definitely coming from the sewers.

Tadashi follows the light, and the music’s volume begins to swell. Soon he comes upon a door hanging wide open, and it's certainly the source of both the light and the song. 

Poking a tentative head through the doorway, Tadashi’s breath catches when he sees a young man bundled in a grubby hooded sweatshirt and tattered jeans, pouring his entire being into coaxing beautiful music from an electric keyboard. 

Unable to move or speak or turn away, Tadashi observes. The way the guy’s fingertips dance over the keys is almost hypnotic. 

Tadashi’s bag bangs against the metal door, and the music abruptly halts. The mystery musician wheels around, and when he spots Tadashi, his eyes bulge behind the shock of black hair covering half his pale face. Spinning on his heel, the mystery man sprints off into the darkness.

“Hey, wait!” Tadashi calls. With little thought for his unfamiliarity with these environs or the good sense not to mingle with strange sewer hermits, Tadashi takes off after him. His violin case slaps against his back with every stride, but he pays it no heed. 

His pursuit is cut short when his feet hit a wet patch on the brick tunnel floor and slide out from beneath him. The fading footsteps dull and stop, and Tadashi can hear the soft creep of his pursuant returning. Tadashi doesn't see him until he cranes open an eye and catches sight of him lingering on the cusp of the shadows. 

To Tadashi’s surprise, his mysterious stranger is about his own age, if not a little younger. The other boy wears a black hoodie with a Karasuno High School crest and an expression of bald curiosity.

“You don't have to be afraid of me,” Tadashi says, groaning when he shifts and his ankle aches. “Oh, that better not be broken.”

Edging out of the dark, the boy hesitantly kneels at Tadashi’s feet and gingerly touches the twisted ankle like it will explode on contact. However, when Tadashi doesn't flinch or morph into a boogeyman, he pulls off Tadashi’s shoe and sock and probes the injury with the same care he affords his piano keys.

“Not broken,” he murmurs, still not meeting Tadashi’s gaze. “You shouldn't be here.”

Tadashi bites his lip as he hoists himself to his feet, hissing when he puts pressure on his ankle. “You're telling me.” His chest heaving from the running, Tadashi slumps against the cold cement wall. “I — I heard you playing. It's wonderful.”

“Come on,” he says, tucking an arm under Tadashi’s and absorbing some of Tadashi’s weight as they lurch back toward the lit room.

Once Tadashi is lowered onto an old battered sofa, the boy pulls out a crate and props up Tadashi’s aching ankle. “Thank you.” When his companion only flinches a little at the sound, he asks, “What’s your name? Mine’s Yamaguchi, but you can call me Tadashi if you want.”

He freezes at Tadashi’s question, but after a droning silence, he whispers, “Tobio.”

“Tobio,” Tadashi parrots, the uncommon name strange but fluid on his tongue. “You play beautifully.” He casts a doleful glance at his violin case. “I could practice for the rest of my life and never play like that.”

“If you keep saying that, you won't.” There is a sharpness to Tobio’s tone that belies his retreating demeanor. “Your only limit is yourself.”

Cheeks reddening,  Tadashi sighs. “Yeah, I probably get in my own way a lot.” His gaze strays to the dimly lit room, which he now sees is some sort of power substation, with metal wire conduits leading in and out of large steel boxes. Tobio’s keyboard is tapped into one of these units somehow. “Do you live here?”

Tobio sits on the far edge of the sofa and nods, and something cold and nasty coils in Tadashi’s chest. “What about your parents?”

“No.” Tobio’s mouth twitches into a grim line.

Tadashi isn’t sure what that ‘no’ encompasses, but he doesn’t ask. Instead, he turns to Tobio and asks, “Can I just listen to you play?”

When Tobio starts playing, Tadashi leans back and absorbs the sound without worrying about spooking or disturbing him. He wouldn’t have guessed an electric keyboard could sound so real and full, but the dynamics are carefully controlled by Tobio putting just the right amount of pressure on the keys. The song seems familiar, but Tadashi can’t place it and is too transfixed to bother trying.

After a while, Tadashi’s empty stomach protests loud enough that Tobio even turns and looks. Giving his new friend a sheepish smile, Tadashi shrugs and says, “Hey, you wanna go get something to eat?”

Tobio’s face drains of what little color it has, and he shakes his head emphatically. Tadashi isn’t surprised, so he amends, “Or I can go get some and bring it back?” When Tobio doesn’t object, he smiles. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“You won’t come back.” Tobio hugs his torso and looks squarely at the floor.

Tadashi frowns. “‘Course I will.” He sets down his satchel and violin case where he had been sitting and pats the canvas of the bag. “Now I have to come back.”

Reaching out to touch the violin case, Tobio’s fingers caress the smooth outline. “Can I?”

“Sure.” Tadashi waves and heads back for the ladder, ankle burning but not enough to quell his determination. Twenty minutes later, he eases back down the ladder with a bag full of meat buns and a couple of drinks from a corner store. 

He almost slips down the ladder when he hears it. Not the piano this time, but the silken strains of a violin. Creeping back into the substation room, Tadashi nearly drops their dinner when he sees that the source of the music is Tobio once again, but this time on Tadashi’s own violin.

It abruptly stops when Tobio notices Tadashi, and he scrambles to put the violin back into its case. “I shouldn’t have touched it.”

“No, no, no!” Tadashi stares down at the violin he has played since he was six, wondering how long he’ll have to wait for something that wonderful to come from it. “I didn’t even know you played.”

Scooting to the very far end of the sofa, Tobio shrinks away and fixes his gaze square at the floor. “I don’t. It’s just . . . mechanics.”

Tadashi laughs wryly and settles onto the sofa with their food. “It’s a lot more than that. I’ve been playing for most of my life and I still can’t play like I actually belong at the conservatory.” 

Fishing out a meat bun, Tadashi eats almost half of it in one bite, swallowing roughly. “I started playing for fun, but as I got older, I wanted to be a better player. My hands just don’t want to cooperate.”

Tobio peers inside the bag, biting his lip as he inspects the contents. “I can have one?” He fixes wide eyes on Tadashi.

“Sure you can.” Tadashi takes another one and edges the bag toward Tobio. “I hope you like the curry ones. They’re my favorite.”

A flash of pure joy lights Tobio’s face as he sets into his half of the buns. It’s not until most of them are gone that it occurs to Tadashi that Tobio probably doesn’t get to eat like this often. A thousand questions churn in his brain, but for the moment, he bites them back and finishes his portion of the meat buns in companionable silence.

When they finish, Tadashi turns his attention back to the violin. “So you really never played one before?”

Draining his strawberry milk, Tobio shakes his head. “No.”

“Can I just —” Running is finger along the strings of his violin, Tadashi blurts, “Teach me to play like you.”

Tobio gapes at him. “Me?” 

“Yeah.” Tadashi colors and shrugs. “I’ve never heard anyone who plays the way you do.” With a quick puff of breath, he adds, “And maybe if you want to tell me how you ended up here, I want to help.”

Shaking his head, Tobio whispered, “You can’t help me. I deserve this.” He shivers and wraps his arms around his torso, rocking stiffly in his seat. “I ruined everything.”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Pushing to his feet, he gathers his things and nods. “So can I come by tomorrow?”

“You really want to?”

This time, Tadashi’s smile is broad and bright. “Yeah. Even if I can just listen to you play, and I’ll bring more meat buns.” When Tobio inhales sharply, Tadashi already lets his mind whir with the possibilities of this strange but fascinating new friendship.

 

╓┈♔┈╖

 

As promised, Tadashi comes back to see Tobio the next day and almost every day after that. Sometimes, he listens to Tobio play; others, he is the one who plays. 

When Tobio listens to Tadashi play his violin, he closes his eyes and his fingers move on his lap, his foot marking the time. It takes a while before Tadashi realizes he’s playing an invisible piano. Sometimes, his hands will slap down on his thighs and he’ll stalk over to where Tadashi stands, remarking on some dynamic or technique. When it comes to discussing music, Tobio’s entire being comes to life. His blue eyes shine bright with engagement, and here and there, Tadashi will watch him more than he pays attention to his own playing.

It’s more than three weeks before Tadashi arrives and Tobio makes no move to greet him. Instead, he sits unmoving and doesn’t even glance over when Tadashi takes the opposite end of the sofa. 

“I left home to go to the conservatory.”

Tadashi freezes. He wants to prod Tobio along to finish lancing what is surely a festering wound, but how to proceed escapes him. It’s taken this long for Tobio to open up, and Tadashi won’t ruin that measure of trust. So he decides to listen instead.

Tobio lets out a shuddering breath and presses on. “My parents wanted me to go to a regular college. Music was just a hobby, not a life.” His head droops, and his overlong hair obscures his face from Tadashi’s view, but he doesn’t need to see it to know the ache that’s splayed out there. It bleeds from his voice.

After a tense silence, Tobio continues. “They told me if I left to waste my life on something like that, I shouldn’t bother coming back.”

Itching to do anything to scrub away the misery radiating from Tobio, Tadashi throws arms around him and crushes him in an embrace. “I’m sorry,” he rasps. He recalls one of the first things Tobio said to him, and it’s with the utmost conviction that he says, “You don’t deserve this. Not ever.”

Tobio shakes his head against Tadashi’s shoulder, and the rest of the story pours out of him. Tobio had difficulty adjusting to playing with other students, to being directed by someone with little patience for pushback, and it hadn’t taken long for Tobio to wash out of his class in the conservatory. 

Out of Tadashi’s class. They had just never met.

Tadashi clutches Tobio until his distress leaches away. Finally drawing full breaths, Tobio looks up at Tadashi with red-rimmed eyes. Tadashi bites his bottom lip, and something lively wriggles in his belly. 

“Thank you,” Tobio murmurs. He pulls away and nods toward his keyboard, a smile threatening to spread across his face. “Play with me.”

“I’d love to.”

For the first time, the two of them play in concert, with Tadashi playing his finals piece while Tobio plays along by ear. The sheer amount of soul from Tobio’s music vibrates in the air, fueling Tadashi’s own in ways he has never experienced.    
When the song ends, Tadashi lowers his violin, leaving it dangling loosely at his side. Tobio’s fingers slip from the keys, and he gazes at Tadashi in awe. 

“That felt incredible,” Tadashi gasps. “Tobio, you're the best musician I've ever played with, and don't you dare tell me otherwise.”

Tobio swallows audibly as they drift closer to one another. Tadashi’s eyes flutter closed when they both lean toward each other to brush their lips together. He smiles, not opening his eyes for fear of chasing away the warm tumult of emotion slipping through his veins.

“You need to go back to the conservatory,” Tadashi declares. “Your music deserves to be heard.”

When Tadashi finally hazards a glance, he finds Tobio’s brow comically scrunched in thought. “Why would I care who listens? I play for me.” With a tinge of pink on his cheeks, he amends, “And for you.”

Tadashi chuckles. “For pride. What other reason would you need?”

Tobio’s eyes glitter with something Tadashi can only categorize as anticipation, and it's a feeling he shares with his entire soul.

 

**_One Month Later_ **

 

Tadashi’s palms are soaked in sweat, and he has no idea why Tobio doesn't show any sign of nerves but is glad nonetheless. At least one of them isn't freaking out about this audition with Tobio’s future on the line. 

They're one piece away from Tobio’s readmission to the Karasuno Conservatory. All Tobio has to do is prove to the headmaster that he can play with other musicians in harmony — the very thing that had derailed his education the first time.

Tobio is hardly the same man he had been when they first met. Freshly showered and laundered courtesy of Tadashi sneaking him into the campus wash facilities, Tobio is fresh-faced and determined. Tadashi can't help but think that Tobio’s presence is almost regal in the way it wields confidence.

When they're beckoned into the audition studio, Tadashi’s nerves feel like they'll rattle out of his skin, but with a wordless touch from Tobio, it subsides. “You can do this.”

Chortling, Tadashi rolls his eyes. “I don't know why I'm freaking out. We’ll be okay. It's you and me, right?”

“Right.” Tobio bobs his head and takes his place at the piano bench. 

The headmaster, a grim old man named Ukai who is even scarier when he smiles, stalks into the room and stands in front of the podium. “Well, look who’s back.” His weathered face splits into a grin, and he claps Tobio on the shoulder hard enough to make him list forward. “I sincerely hope you found yourself, young man. I have never seen a greater waste of talent than when you walked out of those doors.”

Tobio shoots to his feet and bows low. “Yes, Ukai-sensei.”

“Good.” Ukai waves a hand and barks, “Well, get on with it. I'm not gonna live forever.”

Tadashi jerks his violin up into the ready position and squeaks, “Yes, sensei!”

They make it three bars into the piece they had rehearsed just for this before Ukai cuts them off with an irritated jerk of the hand. “No, no, no! What are you doing?”

“Playing?” Tadashi shrivels at being cut off after only a handful of notes. It isn't Tobio’s doing; every lilting piano note harmonized perfectly with Tadashi’s violin. He can't be the reason Tobio gets kicked out again. He  _ won't _ be. “Please give him another chance, sensei. It's my fault we —”

“What are you going on about, boy?” Ukai slaps a baton against the podium and makes both of them jump. “The whole point is to not rehearse. Play what's already on your stands.”

Tadashi looks at Tobio in askance and receives a nod of affirmation. Taking a deep breath, he counts down. 

The unfamiliar song fills the room, and once again, Tadashi is swept away on the wings of Tobio’s heart pouring from the piano. When they finish, Tadashi knows they did it, and Ukai’s less crabby demeanor affirms it.

They leave the studio and head to Tobio’s old lair for the last time, packing it all up and heading for Tobio’s newly assigned dorm room and freshly started life with Tadashi squarely in his corner.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what it is about this ship and offbeat AUs for them, but this was a lot of fun to work on. I hope you liked it, and thank you for reading!


End file.
